


I Know How to Begin

by exmanhater



Series: This Sort of Impossible Life [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, F/F, Femslash, Sexting, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater
Summary: Eliot and Margo go out for a night on the town. Quentin stays home and fantasizes about Eliot in that damn dress and tells Eliot all about it until Eliot is forced to come home early.





	I Know How to Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this just so I could use the official AO3 tag "Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick" in a femslash context? I'll never tell. Please enjoy [this picture of Elizabeth Debicki](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/09/b6/22/09b622e870c0a849d5a838b668260a13.jpg) and imagine her with dark hair as girl!Eliot wearing this dress.

When Margo and Eliot go out, Eliot usually wears what she has told Quentin are tailored suits, but which look to Quentin to be magically placed swaths of silk fabric that make Eliot look like a movie star. (Margo wears tiny dresses that make her look just as amazing, and Quentin stays at the Cottage wearing sweatpants and doing nerdy things like studying or inviting Julian over for a movie marathon.)

Once in a while, in a pattern Quentin still hasn't figured out, Eliot wears dresses out. Hers are usually longer than Margo's, and a completely different style, not that Quentin could name either of their styles. Tonight's one of those nights, and when Eliot and Margo come into Quentin's room to show off their looks, Quentin's jaw drops. Eliot's dress is dark blue and soft-looking, with a side slit up to her hip, and Quentin's having trouble looking away at how long it makes her legs look. Eliot is grinning at her knowingly when she finally manages to look at Eliot's face. She has no idea what Margo's wearing at all, to be honest.

Margo tugs on Eliot's arm impatiently. "Q can ogle you when we get back," she says. "I've got handsome strangers to meet and possibly fuck!"

Quentin reaches up on her tip-toes to give Eliot a quick goodbye kiss, but with the heels Eliot is wearing, she barely manages to reach her neck. Eliot bends to let their mouths actually connect, and when Quentin pulls back a moment later, her lip gloss is smudge-free and still perfect-looking.

"If I didn't already know about magic being real, your make-up would definitely give it away," Quentin says. She pets the soft fabric of Eliot's dress and imagines pushing the fabric to the side, running her hands up Eliot's bare hip. 

Eliot watches her with knowing eyes, and tips her head up, running a hand over her neck briefly. "Stay up for me?" she asks.

Quentin swallows and nods.

"I'm going to puke at the romantic sexual tension in here," Margo announces, and winks at Quentin to soften the words as she drags Eliot out of the room.

Quentin tries several methods of distraction over the course of the next several hours. She reads for a while, until she realizes she has no idea what's actually happening in the book, and since it's not one she's re-read a million times, she actually does want to concentrate on it. She contemplates calling Julian or Adam, but the thought of trying to make conversation with either of them while she's focused so firmly on Eliot in that damn dress stops her. They make fun of her enough as it is; they don't need more ammunition. She tries to focus on her magical theory class readings and stares at one paragraph for at least five minutes. She eventually gives it all up, goes to Eliot's room to lie on her bed since they'll end up there anyway, and starts texting Eliot. Sometimes, if she's lucky, Eliot will make it an early night if Quentin gives her enough… incentive. She tries not to abuse that power, but tonight she really can't help it.

_thinking about you in that dress is making it impossible for me to do anything else_

She doesn’t get a reply, but she doesn't expect one, not right away. She keeps going.

_I bet I could fit under the skirt btw_  
_it looks stretchy_  
_are you even wearing anything underneath? Or could I just start licking you with nothing in the way?_  
_now I'm thinking about the way you taste_  
_I'm starting without you_

She pulls off her sweatshirt and takes a picture to send with the last text, a shot of her hand reaching down under the sheets between her breasts, the skin of her stomach on full display.

She puts down the phone and starts making good on her words, shedding the rest of her clothes and getting comfortable in Eliot's luxurious silk sheets. She imagines it, kneeling down under a table in a club somewhere while Eliot sits above her in that dress, pushing her head up under the skirt, finding Eliot's beautiful cunt already wet and ready for her, licking in and tasting it, going right for the clit the way Eliot likes it. She can't help but moan out loud even though no one's there to hear her. She refuses to touch her own cunt yet, or things are going to get more desperate than she wants, but she twists her nipples and imagines Eliot's long arm reaching under the imaginary table, holding her face against her hot skin, pulsing in her mouth and not letting her breathe.

Her phone buzzes and she's torn out of the fantasy. It's Eliot.

_u little monster_  
_u better not have ur fingers inside urself yet_  
_im coming home in an hour and im going to wreck u_

Quentin smiles in satisfaction and takes another picture, this one of two of her fingers inside her own mouth. She sends it and watches the screen until Eliot replies.

_im going to fuck u until youre screaming_  
_u should probably come at least once before i get there but NO HANDS_  
_gonna get out my cock and hold u against the wall and take care of u, bite up ur neck and bruise ur hips_

Quentin groans and sets the phone down again, picturing it so clearly she can almost feel it. Eliot, wearing her cock, that dress pushed up to give her room, holding Quentin against the wall with magic and making her really feel it. She's so wet, and she wants more than anything to put her fingers inside herself, but Eliot said no hands and she wants to be good. No more texts come, so she turns over and pushes a pillow down between her thighs, squeezing and pressing the soft fabric into her labia over her clit. She keeps moving her hips, and she's slowly getting there, still fantasizing about Eliot's cock inside of her, hands pressing so hard that her hips bruise, when she suddenly has a better idea and flips back over.

She reaches into the bedside table and pulls out Eliot's biggest dick from its case, the rainbow one that's so huge Quentin hadn't been sure she'd be able to take it at first. Now it's her favorite. She holds the base and presses the tip against her labia, the pressure sending a spark of feeling through to her clit. Before she gets too carried away, she takes a quick, blurry picture of the dildo between her thighs and sends it off to Eliot with the caption _no hands_. 

She thinks about the first time Eliot had fucked her with this cock, how she'd put Quentin on her knees and asked her to suck it first. She'd been unsure and anxious, wanting to turn Eliot on but too self-conscious to do more than lick at it a little, her hands holding the wide base tentatively. Eliot had stroked her hair and called her beautiful, and when she had looked up, there was such an open, honest hunger in Eliot's face that she forgot all about looking silly and discovered she liked sucking Eliot's cock as much as she liked sucking her fingers, and that it made Eliot just as happy.

Now, she presses the dildo harder, letting it touch her clit directly, and squeezes her thighs together as she pushes against the dildo rhythmically. She must look ridiculous, but no one's here to see, and if Eliot _were_ here, she would—she would love watching, and Quentin tips over the edge imagining it.

The dildo is wet and slippery when she pulls it up and she's starting to have regrets because if she puts it down now she'll have to go clean it off before Eliot can fuck her and she really doesn’t want to have to stand up. She's just lying there, breathing heavily and holding the dildo in the air when the door opens and Eliot strides in, already barefoot, a wild look in her eyes.

"Oh good," she says when she takes in the scene, and goes right to the closet for her harness. "You're ready for me."

"Fuck," Quentin says, and holds the dildo out carefully to Eliot once Eliot has her harness on and the dress tucked up far enough to put it in place. 

Eliot bends to kiss her, one hand reaching to pinch her hard nipples and the other pulling her up out of the bed. Quentin goes easily, cunt clenching in anticipation.

"You are a brat," Eliot says into her neck, biting her sharply, making Quentin moan. "Margo practically begged me to leave without her because I couldn't concentrate on anything but the thought of you in my bed and I was ruining her buzz."

"I'm not sorry," Quentin gasps. "Wanted you here, want you to fuck me."

Eliot pulls back and smiles at her sharply. "Oh, baby, you're not going to know what to do with yourself when I'm done with you."

Quentin lets herself relax in Eliot's grip and opens her eyes wide, as innocently as she can. "You said you were gonna fuck me against the wall?" she says, and Eliot's telekinesis is suddenly pushing her against the bedroom wall as Eliot walks her there, hands around her thighs, cock tantalizing close to her vulva.

"I keep my promises, sweetheart," Eliot says, and pushes inside of her slowly.

It feels like so much, stretching around Eliot's cock as it presses in unrelentingly. She's so wet that it goes easily, and Quentin loves it, loves it so much her head falls back against the wall as she lets go entirely, trusting Eliot to keep her in place. She squeezes her thighs around Eliot's waist and shivers at the feel of the soft fabric of the dress.

"Were you thinking about me, baby?" Eliot asks, her voice a low rasp in Quentin's ear. She's still going so slow, making Quentin ache and shiver. "Tell me about it."

Quentin whines and wiggles, trying to get Eliot to move fast, but Eliot's hands on her hips are like iron, holding her steady for long, slow thrusts. She tries to think, to remember what she'd been fantasizing about. "Licking you," she says, "under the dress, oh fuck—with your hands holding me there."

"I like your mouth on me," Eliot says. "You're so sweet and eager with your mouth full of pussy."

"God," Quentin moans. "Please—please go faster, El."

"Alright." Eliot relents and starts really thrusting, her cock hitting Quentin just right. The squelching sounds are a little bit hilarious, but Quentin's heard them so often right before truly amazing orgasms that it almost makes her even hotter, now.

"What else, baby?" Eliot says, her voice now almost as breathless as Quentin's. "What were you thinking about when you had my cock between your legs?"

Quentin's head is spinning, but she forces herself to concentrate. "Uh, your—your cock, this one, the first time, when I sucked it," she says, and watches Eliot's eyes get even greedier as her thrusts start to get harder and faster.

"If I didn't want to hear you talking right now, I'd have my fingers in your mouth," Eliot says, hands starting to pull Quentin's hips up and down on her cock with extreme force. "I know you like having something in your mouth."

"I do—fuck, El—I do, so much," Quentin says, and starts helping Eliot out, moving with her. It's the kind of night where she might be able to come just on Eliot's cock, but before she says that, Eliot has one hand on her clit, pressing just right, and all thoughts disappear as she comes, riding it out in waves while Eliot keeps fucking her, aftershocks so strong it seems like the orgasm is lasting forever.

"God, yes," Eliot groans, and starts to slow down a little, but Quentin shakes her head and keeps moving.

"Keep going," she tries to say, but it comes out pretty hazily. Eliot gets the message anyway and starts up again, both hands back on Quentin's hips.

"You want to come again?" Eliot asks. "You're going to make me come, too, you feel so good on my cock, baby."

"I think—I think I can," Quentin says, clutching Eliot's shoulders, fingers digging into the edges of the dress, and gasping for breath. "Just like this, you don't need to touch me, it's so good, fuck—"

Eliot swears and does her best to keep fucking Quentin at the same angle, and it's—it's like a fucking tidal wave, the way her cunt clenches and shakes as she comes, the feeling so much deeper and all-encompassing when it happens like this, rare as it is for her. She holds Eliot close against her, heaving for breath and watching as Eliot works her way to an orgasm with the pressure of the base of her cock against her own clit.

Eliot kisses her as they both come down, slowly letting her legs down and pulling out. "Hang on," she says, and Quentin hears the harness and cock fall down somewhere, and then Eliot is floating her to the bed. She kisses Quentin's forehead. "I'll be right back," she promises when Quentin whines.

Quentin relaxes back into the bed. She doesn't know long it is before Eliot is back, but soon enough she's tucked up against Eliot's long, slender body, feeling enveloped and safe. Eliot rubs her shoulders and side, humming softly, and Quentin is so, so happy.

Once she can think ago, though, she remembers the dress. Eliot's naked now, and she doesn't know what happened to it.

"Did I ruin your dress?" she asks, because she had really liked that dress.

Eliot smiles at her fondly and traces her finger over Quentin's mouth. "No, it's fine. I am a Magician, after all."

"Oh, good." Quentin yawns and turns in Eliot's arms so that she's being spooned. "I like that dress."

"I noticed," Eliot says, and she can feel Eliot still smiling against her neck as she falls asleep.

[the end.]


End file.
